


All of Me (Loves All of You)

by define_serenity



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: “Pity chocolate I’ll take,” Caitlin adds, “but that’s it.”“You’re too sick to eat chocolate,” he says, and looks over the warzone Caitlin turned their bed into over the past few hours; used tissues strewn all over the floor despite the basket he’d strategically placed next to the bed…SERIES OF UNRELATED DRABBLES.





	1. Savitar/Killer Frost

**Author's Note:**

> Series of unrelated drabbles for [**@simplysnowbarry's Valentine event**](http://simplysnowbarry.tumblr.com/post/181929354300/save-the-date-february-14th-without-further-ado), all short love (ish) stories based on the starters posted for the challenge.
> 
> Most drabbles have a different Barry/Caitlin character combination.

.

“Take you out?” he asks, wandering into her room.

Fingers ticking along the row of books she’s hoarded, he knows better than to do so uninvited, but she’s been shut up in here for close to two days, coming up for air to get food only, and it’s strained his final ounce of patience. 

All that because he revealed his true identity to Wally; she’d called him hotheaded and careless and damn lucky the young speedster promptly became unresponsive. He’d found it almost touching, how she thought about the big picture when she’d made it clear that if he ever broke her heart, she’d abandon this mission of his with no thought of the repercussions to his very existence.

It was a mistake on his part thinking her that sentimental. 

If she meant to punish by ignoring him, he dare say she succeeded. 

And she succeeds now by maintaining her silence— sat in an armchair by the balcony windows, his presence serves as little more than a small distraction from her reading. A medical encyclopedia, he ascertains, to soothe whatever part of her that yet longed for a more approachable identity. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he says, words chosen to elicit a precise reaction, to break the silence she’s far too good at making her own. 

Because as these things do, her pride gets in the way.

Killer Frost huffs. “I  _ hate _ Valentine’s Day.”

It’s nothing he hadn’t expected to hear, and nothing he hadn’t meticulously prepared for— an apology isn’t within his power to give her, but he can make sure she moves past this, even if he runs the risk of invoking her wrath all over again. Killer Frost doesn’t forgive, nor does she forget easily. 

“HR Jitters is having a Friends’ Day gathering for happy singles.”

As expected, this gets her attention; the medical compendium lowers to her lap, and he might not be able to see it, but he gets a picture perfect image of her smile in his mind’s eye, of the corner of her mouth slipping upwards unintended, the side-eye she means to throw him but can’t bring herself to, right before she stands to face him.

She’s a picture, his queen, hair braided sideways, one of his old shirts -ripped at the collar- exposing one of her shoulders. Her eyes are effervescent pools of ivory and blue, dark lips content with mischief.

Killer Frost smirks. “How perfectly atrocious.” 

“Shall we then”—he holds out a hand—“my queen?”

“Is this”—her lips purse, regarding him closely as she idles a step closer, playing with the distance between them—“an apology?”

He laughs.

She knows him better than that.

“A peace offering,” he says, hand still outstretched towards her. “Come on, I’ll steal you some new books while we’re at it.”

  
  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	2. Caitlin/Barry

“That better not be a pity rose,” Caitlin groans the moment he exits the bathroom, a single red rose in his left hand, a startling cold washcloth in the other.

She’d been asleep when he checked on her a minute ago, though clearly it’d been lighter than he hoped— despite a fever of a 102 Caitlin refused to give into a few days’ rest. At least her frostier alter ego listened to reason; Frost did not take kindly to the rise in body temperature and promptly ordered Caitlin to bed.

“Pity chocolate I’ll take,” Caitlin adds, “but that’s it.”

“You’re too sick to eat chocolate,” he says, and looks over the warzone Caitlin turned their bed into over the past few hours; used tissues strewn all over the floor despite the basket he’d strategically placed next to the bed, nose spray on his pillow, and a slew of medical journals littered over the sheets. He doubted she’d found the energy to read any of them. 

Caitlin pouts. “There’s no such thing as ‘too sick to eat chocolate.’”

Sitting down by her side he places the red rose next to the bottle of cough syrup on the nightstand, its color a near perfect match to the medicine. Then, carefully, he touches a hand to her forehead. Her fever hadn’t come down much. 

“Is that your professional medical opinion, Dr. Snow?” he asks, pushing sweaty strands of hair from her face, before he pushes the cold washcloth to her skin. 

Caitlin sighs gratefully. 

He imagined so did Frost.

“I’m sorry I ruined our plans.”

“That’s weird,” he says. “I didn’t realize you got sick on purpose.”

With what little strength she has left, Caitlin punches him in the chest.

Barry laughs, his worry barely abated. Ever stubborn, Caitlin had insisted she didn’t need to see a doctor for a cold, besides she was a doctor herself and knew perfectly well how to take care of a runny nose, scratchy throat and a slight fever. It must’ve been part of the same delirium that’d convinced her she’d one day find the cure for the common cold because he’d done most of the caretaking.

Not that he minded. He rarely got the chance to repay her for all the times she’d patched him up. Though he did wish she wouldn’t work so hard she lost sight of her own health.

“We’ll make our own day.”

“Yeah?” Caitlin breathes, her voice a whisper with the cold medicine kicking in. 

He nods, bringing the washcloth down to her neck. “We’ll have a Frost and a Flash at Jitters. Dinner at that cute Italian place where we had our first date.”

“A walk by the promenade?” Caitlin asks, wishful smile in her voice. 

Where they shared their first kiss.

“It’s a date, Dr. Snow,” he whispers, watching his girlfriend -finally- give in to sleep.

  
  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	3. The Flash/Killer Frost

She smirked as she tossed another pink teddy bear into the roaring flames. Fire eats at the fabric one delicate strand at a time, flames reflected inside the ring she’d treated herself to moments ago. What a pretty little thing it was -1.25 carat diamond, 14K white gold ring-, just what she needed to cheer her up.

“Frost!”

Killer Frost laughs, and swings around, coming face to face with none other than her favorite speedster. “ _Flash_ ,” she calls, the consonant whistling between her teeth, the sight of his blood red suit flushing her skin a little hotter. Funny how it did that. “Dressed up and everything.”

“Here I was thinking I’d have no Valentine this year.”

Standing to his full height -and what an impressive height it was- the Flash shakes his head. Nothing but disapproval, as usual, as if he doesn’t continually succeed in testing her patience—they made quite the pair, Killer Frost thought, even if they tended toward opposite ends of the morally gray.

“You can’t do this, Frost.”

“Burn down the commercialization of Valentine’s Day?” she asks, glancing at the pile of dead teddy bears behind her. “Used to be all a fella had to do was buy his girl a rose or two.”

The Flash sighs, hands at his hips.

She does so enjoy testing his patience in turn.

“It’s okay”—she raises her hands in surrender—“I’ve had my fun for tonight.”

She’ll slink back to her penthouse, slip back into her alter ego to avoid detection, and admire all the treasure she’s gathered over the past few months—what would The Flash do, she wonders, if he ever found the true riches she freed from Central City’s upper crust. She likes to think they have a silent understanding: she doesn’t fully live up to her name and sometimes he turns a blind eye, and, on occasion, this leads to her lending a hand against his supervillain of the season.

It’s a precarious understanding, one predicated on trust she’s uncertain she deserves, but one she’s -as yet- not betrayed.

“The diamonds, Blue?” the Flash asks, catching her two steps into her retreat.

Always keeping his eye on the ball, that Flash.

“Oh.” Killer Frost pouts, and raises her left hand, the swift wiggle in her fingers twisting the ring a bit off-center. “I liberated these from the dainty hands of some lovestruck fool.”

“Proposing on Valentine’s Day”—Killer Frost rolls her eyes—“how original, am I right?”

Much to her surprise this draws a smile from the speedster, which pulls her a curious step closer. She so longs to know who’s behind the mask, to find out what kind of man it takes to use his powers for good, rather than his own personal gain. Probably some goody-two-shoes instilled with a sense of justice at an early age. Some tragedy in his past. Isn’t that usually how it goes?

“I can’t let you keep them.”

“Well then...”

Folding her hands behind her back with a smile, she idles a few steps closer, freezing the ground beneath her feet well below absolute zero. Ice forms around the palm of her hand and fingers, making a tight icy fist she means to aim at the speedster’s pretty face.

“... it seems we’re at an impasse.”

As expected the Flash anticipates her move, skillfully dodging the punch in his direction, right before his boots lose grip on the ground and he slips on the patch of ice.

“Look at that”—she giggles and, sinking down, swiftly straddles her bespoke speedster around the hips—“I’ve swept you off your feet.”

Pinned down, the Flash doesn’t bother struggling, and she lets her fingers play over the bolt of lightning on his chest. It isn’t the first time she’s gotten the upper hand in one of their fights, and it won’t be the last. Half of the things she gets away with is because he loses focus around her.

“We can’t keep doing this,” the Flash says, but fails to disguise the clear hint of a smile that follows his exasperation.

“Can’t we?” she asks, and leans in, pushing their lips together.

No cold follows, just the warmth of their mouths, the Flash’s opening for hers, tongue licking inside. Their bodies melt into each other, the speedster grabbing around her with a desperation almost unbecoming.

It doesn’t last long.

Whatever trust or love there is between them is predicated on an understanding of each other’s vices, and The Flash only tolerates hers to a degree.

Perhaps one day that’ll change.

But that’s not today.

She pushes him back down to the cold hard ground, leaving him breathless, wanting, just how she likes it, and leaves the diamond ring behind over the emblem on his chest.

No need to treat herself when the Flash is so willing to be her Valentine.

Staring down at him still lying on the ground, she winks before she takes her leave. “See you around, Red.”

 

 

**\- fin -**

 


	4. Barry/Frost

“So—”

Barry idles into the lounge one languid step at a time, still undecided whether or not it’s a remark he should be making.

“—you love me, huh?”

Still, Killer Frost’s earlier “You’re so lucky I love you” had been spinning circles in his head for close to an hour now, and it wouldn’t let him go; she wasn’t usually playful with him, let alone out in the field when their lives were in danger. Then again, knowing Frost, that’s exactly where she would.

Killer Frost rolls her eyes, looking up from the book she sat reading at the bar. “Don’t let it go to your head, Flash.”

“No, I’m— flattered,” he says, trying the word out in his mouth, which falls short of what he hoped to convey. He was happy, _pleased_ , if not somewhat confused about his own feelings. Caitlin and Frost weren’t completely dichotomous; they were a part of each other, a little cold in Caitlin and more warmth than she cared to admit in Frost. She was a part of Caitlin as surely as the Speed Force was a part of him, and it, too, often had its effect on their relationship— Caitlin never held that against him. In fact, she cared about the Speed Force too.

When it came to Frost’s feelings, though, he couldn’t always gauge where he stood with her.

“ _What_?” Frost snaps, when she catches him staring at her.

Arms crossed over his chest, he chances a step closer. “She worries about you, you know.”

Frost’s eyes betray a brief moment of hesitation, as they often did, before she steels herself again. Against what, he’s yet to figure out.

“Because I haven’t had my bespoke love interest yet?” she asks, lips sliding into a smile. “Please.”

It isn’t the first time she’s made a joke out of something he said, and he doubts it’ll be the last, but it won’t dissuade him from trying to melt some of her bravado. He loved Frost too, in his own way; all the things of Caitlin he found in her, and every new facet of Caitlin she represented only cemented his feelings further.

“I’m fine on my own,” Frost adds, almost like an afterthought.

It’s that afterthought, however, that makes him glad he decided to come to her.

“You’re not alone, Frost.”

More than any of them Frost struggled to find her identity, to figure out where she fit in this team let alone in the world at large— she’d made mistakes, struck some poor allegiances in search of herself, but who of them hadn’t made mistakes? God knew his mistakes carried far greater consequences than any of hers.

No one on this team would ever claim her on the outside; this is where she belonged, no matter what else the universe decided to throw at them. He’d make sure nothing or no one would ever get in the way of that again.

“You have a family,” he says. “It’s not just Cait’s.”

In all of this, he daresay she belonged with him, too.

“I meant romantically, doofus.” Frost’s brow rises, but the smile that curls around her mouth is fond and playful, starting butterflies in his stomach. “It’s kind of hard to ignore Caity’s feelings for you in that department.”

“Oh.”

Maybe Frost’s feelings for him weren’t that complicated, after all.

“Now don’t be getting any ideas.”

“I’m not!” Barry squeals, knowing to temper his affection around Frost. “I mean, I wouldn’t, not unless—”

Frost glares. “ _No_.”

He nods and puts up his hands in surrender. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Frost agrees, and returns to her reading.

Barry smiles. For all of Frost’s seeming reservations and icy exterior, her heart is here; with the team, with Caitlin, with him. They made quite the pair no matter how anyone looked at it; a speedster, a meta with icy abilities, a CSI, and his personal physician— yet, somehow, they worked.

Barry exits the room, unaware of Frost’s eyes closely following him out.

  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	5. Caitlin/Savitar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (!) WARNING: ANGST, CHARACTER DEATH

His face isn’t anything like Barry’s. Marred by time and space and every paradox in between, it betrayed the ugliness he became capable of, one of the many things that separated him from the Barry she so cared about.

Yet, despite everything, he was still in some shape or form Barry Allen. At their core, Savitar and Barry were the same, started in the same place but molded into different people. By what is everyone’s guess. He hasn’t been too forthcoming about his making.

But, Barry or not, he’s wounded.

Never mind that he’d tried to kill everyone she held dear, never mind that he’d tried to deconstruct her life one loved one at a time in an attempt to make her Killer Frost and when that didn’t work, he’d tried to kill her. She carried the scars to prove it.

He’s tested her every which way; her will, her strength, her beliefs, some of them successfully— but her oath will never waver, not once. Do no harm. It’s her duty as a physician to help him, no matter the hesitation coursing through her veins.

“Barry,” she calls softly, watching him startle back into consciousness.

Face contorted in anguish, one dark eye finds hers.

—and whatever pain his wounds plagued him with seems to subside.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time,” Savitar says, managing a small smile, and not for the first time she fails to shake the feeling that somehow, this self-made monster knew her far better than Barry does now. What version of her lived in his past, her future, that warranted such violence towards her?

“You’re not healing,” she says, “I—”

Why did she yet feel such care for him, after everything he’s done?

Her will.

Her strength.

Her heart.

“There’s nothing else I can do.”

He would’ve killed her if it hadn’t been for Iris and Cisco, if it hadn’t been for Harry’s quick thinking, and despite those unspeakable acts she’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame, bound to burn up should she ever get too close. Or turn to ice, as it were.

She should hate him the way Barry’s grown to hate himself.

But she doesn’t.

“It’s funny”—Savitar inhales sharply—“I wasn’t going to let him have this,” he says, and in a moment of near tenderness folds a hand around her wrist.

She expects it to hurt like the knife he’d driven into her skin— but it doesn’t.

“Have what?” she asks, body trembling as his grows colder, the bullets lodged near his heart moving in closer. There are things Savitar has never said, about her role in any part of his mismatched timeline, why it had to be her, or rather, Killer Frost to stand by his side.

Deep down in the darkest parts of her heart she’s long since figured that out.

It was spite.

“My best kept secret.” Savitar’s voice softens further, as does his grip around her. “I’ve always loved you.”

Tears shoot into Caitlin’s eyes.

Everything he did to lure out Killer Frost, every trick he played to cement her defection—

Love?

Savitar chuckles bitterly, breath catching. “And now...”

No, that wasn’t love, if anything it was a madman’s misguided conception of it because love didn’t drive people to murder, it didn’t make people into monsters. Love made a person stronger. That’s how all of them had survived this. Mostly.

“Go to him, Cait—” Savitar breathes out. “He—”

But losing love—

The monitor flatlines into a ceaseless tone.

Without love people turned to ice, grew angry and vengeful and searched for others to blame; it led to this kind of spite, the kind that made men into monsters, into killers, into barbed creatures that would never allow Barry—

Oh. Caitlin’s breath catches. Barry.

His face reminds her a lot more of Barry now, in its stillness.

Gently, Caitlin pulls Savitar’s eyes shut and turns off the sound of the monitor.

Somewhere further down the hall, Cisco’s heart monitor sounds a steady rhythm.

A tear runs down her cheek.

Hands shaking she finds a clean white sheet and covers him with it, one final dignity she can offer. It’s all over now, the worry, the crippling fear, the sense of betrayal. The nightmares.

She wonders when was the last time Savitar had been dealt any sort of kindness, when he’d grown impervious to any that followed. When it became so easy for him to try and kill someone he always—

 _Always_.

Shaken from her grief she takes off her neoprene gloves, dropping them unceremoniously to the cold hard floor.

She finds her Barry in the speed lab, crumpled into a ball at the edge of the ramp, as if he’s trying to hold all that he is together. Try as he might, Barry’s fracture lines have grown too deep these past few months. Sooner or later, something will give.

“He’s gone,” she says, and sits down by Barry’s side.

“Good,” Barry says, sounding too much like his counterpart. “Cisco?”

“He’s sedated. Iris called his parents. They’ll be here soon.”

She’s still shaking and the stitches to her side pull uncomfortably tight beneath the bandages, but all she can think about is Barry. Oh. Barry.

A sob rakes through Barry’s body, splitting apart his steely gaze. “It’s all my fault. Cisco, and— you, and— I’m sorry,” he cries, “I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin draws a hand through Barry’s hair, and he gives way as if a child, sinking into her embrace, his ear over her heart. “We don’t blame you, Barry,” she hushes, and makes a vow right there and then.

She will love him.

She did and she does and she will.

She may not be able to claim the same thing as Savitar but she’s loved Barry for a long time, and she will love him when the time is right for them— she’ll love him hard and completely, she’ll be greedy with her love and selfish. It’ll make them strong together, in the face of whatever else the universe throws at them.

And she’ll remind him, every day, that he doesn’t face the world alone.

  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	6. Barry/Caitlin

“Is all this really necessary?” Barry asks, watching his date hunkered down on her carpet on all fours, scrubbing furiously at the red wine stain left behind after she tipped over her own glass. The room now smelled of the mixture of vinegar and dish soap she’d applied to the stain, lifting it little by little by blotting it with a small sponge.

“It’s going to be a lot harder to remove once the stain sets.”

“I know, I meant—” he scrambles to find the right words, but watching Caitlin so focused on the task at hand while all he can do is stand there and watch chases away whatever argument he was about to make. He’s known Caitlin long enough to know that ‘it’s not that big a deal’ will only insult her.

So much for their quiet night in. 

It’d started nice enough; Caitlin invited him over to her place for an intimate candlelit dinner, far away from the bustling commercialism that accompanied most Valentine’s Days in Central City. She’d opened the door wearing a strapless red dress perfectly matched to her lipstick, curls long and uneven. They’d talked like they always talked, easy smiles in between glasses of wine— until Caitlin’s glass took a tumble and spilled all over the carpet. 

He’d never seen her this worked up.

“Look, Caitlin,” he says as he sits down on the carpet next to her, “if you don’t want this—”

Caitlin freezes.

“I’ll understand.”

When Caitlin finally looks at him she’s like a deer caught in headlights, her hazel eyes wide in question. “What do you mean?”

“It’s your first Valentine’s Day since your husband died.”

Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it all went too fast.

Wine stain left abandoned Caitlin sits back on her ankles, pushing her glasses back up her nose as she stammers, “That doesn’t—” and, “I’m not—” before she starts chewing at her lower lip, nothing like the quick-witted lawyer he met in court a few weeks ago, making mince meat of his expert statement as a CSI. It hadn’t been anything personal, she explained later, it was her job to defend her client to the best of her ability and when he made such a cute target— she’d blushed and scrunched her nose and apologized again before wishing him luck in any other depositions, leaving him with his jaw practically stuck to the floor.

He’d met her on the courthouse steps the next day, asking her out for coffee.

It’d been the start of an as yet brief whirlwind romance of coffee dates at the courthouse, a few lovely meals, and a heated make-out session in his lab while the centrifuge prepared DNA samples. 

Safe to say, Captain Singh had not been happy when he’d caught them.

Caitlin sighs and sits back against the couch. “I guess I have been a little neurotic.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Truth is, if she needed him to, he’d wait for her; her grace, her unbelievable strength, her willingness to open up her heart again had all drawn him to her— her small neurotic tendencies and need for control were endearing, if anything, and understandable given the tragedy she suffered.

“I do want this, Barry,” Caitlin says, and reaches her fingers for the buttons of his shirt. 

Curls tousled, Caitlin smooths down the white fabric to give her hands something to do, and glances up carefully, as if any moment he might spring up and run for the door. “I like you, a lot.” 

Barry smiles.

“I got caught up in the planning and getting everything just right—”

“Hey,” he hushes, and gently brushes back a strand of her hair, fingers tracing along the helix of her ear— her eyes shine bright behind her glasses. “This doesn’t have to be perfect.”

A faint blush touches Caitlin’s cheeks.

How beautiful she looks, Barry thinks, despite the panic that’d raked through her body, in spite of everything that’d tried to beat her down. He would wait, if she asked him to, because girls like Caitlin were worth waiting for.

“I don’t know,” Caitlin says softly, “this seems pretty perfect to me”, and scoots a little closer to push a sweet kiss to his lips, one he eagerly reciprocates.

Their glasses click together, drawing a giggle out of Caitlin that pops against his lips. 

  
  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	7. Barry/Killer Frost

“I was expecting chocolates or flowers.”

Barry spits out the sip of wine he’d been swirling around in his mouth at the sound of Frost’s monotone, all but tipping over backwards in his chair.

Frost smirks an icy white smile. “But this is nice, too.”

“Frost?” He frowns. “What? Where’s Caitlin?”

Tossing her keys in the designated dish on the hallway cabinet, Frost taps a finger at one of her temples. “Kicking and screaming for me to not say what I’m about to.”

Slowly rising from his chair, Barry’s eyebrows rise too. “Which is—?”

“You have the entire night planned out, yes?”

“Uh—”

What made Frost think that he hadn’t planned the night to a tee? After three weeks of subtle hints from Iris and Cisco that maybe Caitlin would be open to an elaborate Valentine’s Day date he’d spent another two making sure she’d get one. That’s why he’d let himself into her apartment in the first place, hoping he might surprise his beautiful girlfriend with a special night.

Did she not want that?

Was that why Frost showed up instead?

“Good wine?” Frost says, “Romantic dinner? Just the two of you?”

“Of course. Why—”

The sudden step forward Frost takes in his direction kills any questions he might’ve had.

One of her index fingers rises between them, coming precariously close to his face.

“This is Caity’s first Valentine in a long time and I won’t have you muck anything up.”

“What makes you think—”

Frost raises an eyebrow, both unimpressed and judgmental— and, okay, he may not have the best track record with keeping the commitments he makes and God knows he tries, but he’s been late to a few of his dates with Caitlin. He never did any of that on purpose. Caitlin understood that, Frost clearly didn’t. She’d made it a point these past few months to let him know, in very precise detail, what would happen to certain bones should he ever break Caitlin’s heart.

Which, oddly, had endeared her to him.

“Cisco, Ralph and Iris are all on standby to take care of any emergencies with strict orders not to disturb you,” Frost says, index fingers drawing small circles in the air— it’s something Caitlin did too, when she explained things. “So if any alarms go off—”

“I let them take care of it,” he supplies quickly, and nods, lest he provoke any further rancor. He’s not sure Caitlin would really mind him slipping out if there were any major emergencies, but he’ll respect Frost’s demands. “Got it.”

He wants this evening to be perfect too, after all.

Tonight, he’s not the Flash, but just Barry, hoping to impress the girl he loves. Caitlin hadn’t celebrated any Valentine’s Days these past few years, not since Ronnie died, so he wanted to do everything within his power to make this night go according to plan. Dinner. Wine. Movie. The works. 

Frost pokes him in the chest. “I’m watching you, Barry Allen,” she says, and makes a move to leave, until her eyes fall to the box of chocolates on the bar. She perks up and smiles, snatching the box away as if it was meant for her, and makes a swift turn before he can protest. They were meant for Caitlin, but he guesses she’ll enjoy him all the same now. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Frost says, “I believe Caitlin intends to slip into something appropriately romantic.” 

She grimaces, and rolls her eyes on exit.

Barry laughs. Frost always has an odd way of showing she cared, but he liked that she was in Caitlin’s corner, even if the two disagreed on a varied amount of topics. He’d never dream of breaking her heart, and it was nice to know she had another -though icy- layer of protection around it.

At least Frost seemed to be in his corner too.

  
  


 

**\- fin -**

 


	8. Barry/Caitlin(/Frost)

“Do we need to...?”

Barry pauses, willing his voice a pitch lower before it reaches ultrasonic frequencies.

“Talk? About last night?” he asks, turning in bed to face his girlfriend of two years, Caitlin Snow, whom he’d decidedly not gone to bed with— that would’ve been her icier alter ego, _Frost_ , who’d taken an uncharacteristic amount of control in their relationship.

Not that he’d complained or been in any position to; high on adrenaline after a charged meta battle where he and Frost tag-teamed, she’d gone home with him too, where she’d caught him in a kiss barely half a step over the threshold.

Caitlin’s lips quirk sideways, the way they did when she felt guilty about something. He thought he was the one who had to feel guilty, for not questioning Frost, for giving into her kiss and her touch that’d echoed Caitlin’s but wasn’t— or was it?

“I know it was a little— strange,” Caitlin says, smoothing a hand down his chest as she bites her lower lip. “But it was nice, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” he breathes. “It was.”

It weirdly just— worked, the same way he and Caitlin worked. Whenever he got a little overexcited, Frost cooled him down, making sure he slowed down enough to enjoy their time together. And it was Caitlin, her  _body_ and her _hands_ and her  _lips_ , and— had he made a mistake?

“When she’s in control”—Caitlin sits up a little, her long curls offset against the alabaster of her skin—“I still feel everything she feels.

“Instead of being— in sync with my body last night it was all sensation well past any physical boundaries.”

Barry smiles; leave it to Dr. Caitlin Snow to find the empirical value, as if somehow last night had been an experiment. Had Frost and Caitlin been in on this together? Ever since Frost and Caitlin found common ground, years ago now, there wasn’t anything one did without the other knowing about it.

“I had a really great time,” Caitlin concludes, eyes shining bright.

“Good.” Barry nods. “Good,” he adds, under his breath, sheets a little scratchy against his skin. Not all of his guilt has abated, and given enough time he could overthink this entire situation straight into a panic attack.

“It’s pretty crazy,” Caitlin says.

“It’s crazy,” Barry breathes out, relieved to hear Caitlin admit that their situation is odd, to say the least. Frost had always been a part of their relationship, and juggling the alternate hadn’t always been easy— there were times he wondered if Frost liked him at all, or thought he was good enough for Caitlin, and no matter the scenario it boiled down to the same question.

What about Frost?

She was equally entitled to live her life.

“But good crazy?” Caitlin offers, smiling a little hopeful yet awkward smile that tells him she’s freaking out as much as he is.

Maybe it was futile to worry; it was either going to work or not, and right now everything pointed to them lasting.

“I want all of you, Caitlin,” Barry says, and opens his arms for Caitlin to lie down in. Caitlin scoots closer, laying her head down over his chest, arms circling his torso. Releasing the breath caught a little too high in his lungs, Barry relaxes back into the mattress.

“I love all of you,” Barry adds, and kisses her hair, “Including—”

“It’s okay”—Caitlin giggles—“she doesn’t need to hear it.”

  


 

**\- fin -**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [post @ twitter](https://twitter.com/ttinycourageous/status/1095969072976707584?s=20)   
>  [post @ tumblr](http://ttinycourageous.tumblr.com/post/182800161643)


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